


It's Never Too Late...

by desla_be



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Gym, Swimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:07:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24211069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/desla_be/pseuds/desla_be
Summary: Sansa fancies learning how to swim. She comes across a perfect opportunity when she sees a flyer advertising swimming lessons! Who's S.C. anyway? She decides to take the leap... and it's not quite... what she expected.
Relationships: Sandor Clegane & Sansa Stark, Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark
Comments: 24
Kudos: 107





	It's Never Too Late...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Yetis_girl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yetis_girl/gifts).



> Hope you like it @Yetis_girl! & hope that it satisfies your prompt :)

Twenty-six years, twenty-six summers and Sansa Stark couldn’t swim to save her life. On the contrary, in fact: if she did swim, she’d likely _lose_ her life.

In her defense… Northerners didn’t do much swimming in their leisure time. She was, however, a proud snow-tuber, and... _occasionally_ successful at skiing.

But unfortunately, now that she lived in the South… there weren’t any great excuses for her not knowing how to swim, especially not now that another summer had come and gone. How embarrassing it was to go to the beach with her girls and not be able to go swimming because she didn’t know how! Or to go to her friends’ house parties and not be able to paddle in their pools because she didn’t very well know how!

Well, the time for incompetence was over and Sansa Stark was going to learn how to swim.

And it was just her luck that a chance opportunity had presented itself when she saw a sign posted on her office bulletin board that offered swimming lessons!

It was relieving to her that, as the flyer was in her office building, there must’ve been more adults in the South who “defied the norm” and shared an ignorance regarding swimming. Maybe some of her coworkers would be at the lesson too?

_Swimming Lessons_

_Saturdays, 9-10_

_StreetFit, Pool 2_

_S.C._

When Sansa saw “S.C.” her initial thoughts were, of course: _Santa Claus?_ The holidays were just around the corner, even though it certainly didn’t feel like it at eighty-five Fahrenheit. She strongly hoped, however, that her swimming instructor would share minimal comparisons with Santa Claus.

Upon entering her bedroom, Sansa squealed. She was finally going to learn how to swim! Her days of being at risk for drowning were going to— _well_ … she supposed that she could still drown…

But nothing was going to take away her excitement. She stretched up (with the help of a stool) above her closet and pulled off a plastic green storage box- they would've taken up her vital drawer space otherwise. It was filled with neatly rolled bathing suits, as she wore them for tanning and hot-tub endeavors.

Sansa turned the box over her bed, spilling out the contents. To be truthful… she didn’t have many to choose from. They weren’t necessary in the North and obviously she didn’t know how to swim, so how many did she really need?

She had four in total: a classic, black one-piece; a baby-blue ruffled one-piece; a high-waisted polka dotted bikini, and a low-cut orange bikini that was teetering over immodest.

Sansa ruled out the orange bikini immediately… along with the black one-piece. It was a swimming lesson; she didn’t want to look plain, though she also didn’t want the misfortune of her boobs falling right out of her top in front of everyone. She tried on the ruffled one-piece… but it was from years ago… so many years that she found herself running into a dreadful case of boob spillage.

But hey… the polka dotted bikini was pretty cute, after all… It cut off right below her belly button and it made her stomach look almost flat.

Surely she wouldn’t be the only adult there wearing a bikini; someone would _surely_ be dressed less innocently than her.

Sansa had a grim thought of being the only woman attending the lesson… but surely it couldn't be possible. What were the odds of that? The city wasn’t so small and not every lady here could know how to swim, she thought.

**

When Saturday rolled around, Sansa resolved to arrive early to chat with the instructor. After all, who was _S.C._? And were they aware that they had the same initials as Santa? They ought not wander around under such a vague identity, as surely she couldn’t be the only person who’d been confused. And, it was bad for business, Sansa thought; bad for acquiring clients.

She didn’t make it early, however, as she couldn’t find that godforsaken _Pool 2!_ S.C. was already leaving a distasteful impression. This gym was horrific to navigate and Sansa was starting to think this had been a bad idea. So many hallways… and now she was going to be late. What it her coworkers were there after all? Was learning to swim really worth it?

But then, of course, she found _Pool 2_ hiding by the west stairwell. The door was solid white with a small window; beneath the window was a copy of the flyer from her office. Sansa was pleased!—She was finally going to learn to swim! She ran into the ladies’ bathroom on the opposite wall.

After changing into her bikini, Sansa assessed herself thoroughly in the mirror. There would be other adults there… definitely people she didn’t know and, as someone who didn’t usually take off her clothes in public, she was a bit nervous as to how they were going to perceive her... but, she’d come far too close to back off now. Sansa tucked her clothes into her bag and left the bathroom.

She pulled the door open nervously, with a slight hope that she could sneak in without much notice.

To her luck, every single head turned her way. And each head was more shocking than the next. They were all…

“Sansa?” came a grumbling voice.

She turned. _S.C._

Nope, not Santa. Not Santa at all... At least, none of the Santas that _she_ knew had burned faces. There could have been something revolutionizing going on here: perhaps the industry thought that burn victims needed representation, and that representation came in the form of hiring a man with severe scar tissue to act as Santa… But this man wasn’t even wearing the iconic red suit. No suit, no hat, no white beard. Which meant, in turn, that there would be no revolution, least of all for burn victims. 

“Mr.… _Clegane_?” she near whispered, her breath stunted in her chest.

He scowled at her, one side of his face nearly slack as the scars tried to stretch at his command. The white t-shirt that he wore looked painfully small over his hulking shoulders, and Sansa fought to keep her eyes on his.

“It’s _Sandor_ ,” he corrected, affronted that she dared use his surname. His expression was stuck in an unwavering glower. It softened only for a moment as he trailed his glance down her figure, and then it was back to a scowl. “What are you doing here?”

“What are _you_ doing here?” Sansa shot back, regretting it instantly later. She knew exactly what he was doing here. He was S.C.

“I’m teaching lessons in swimming,” he said flatly, and when she glanced behind her again, Sandor Clegane added, “to _children_.”

Shit, not a one of them was above ten years old. And to think she'd been nervous about being the only woman in the room. Never in her wildest dreams would she have imagined that she'd be the only _adult_! They were all flopping around on the cement beside the shallow end and giggling to each other. They all had floaties on their upper arms.

“Children,” Sansa mumbled, chuckling in disbelief. She was… well, more than a little outraged. “The flyer didn’t say it was for children,” she pointed out. It left out a lot of details, in fact, like his full name? Or at the very least, his full _first_ name? “You ought to make a new one.”

Sandor Clegane narrowed his eyes at her. “It didn’t say it was for children,” he rasped, “because the flyer was posted on the _parents’_ bulletin board. You know, the bulletin board with the events for _children_. Piano lessons and ballet and, well," he gestured around the room, "swimming.”

Sansa couldn’t think of a thing to say. She didn’t have any kids, why would she notice that the bulletin board was only for the youth? She fancied herself quite observant, therefore her lack of noticing simply _had_ to be a result of poor communication on her office's part. 

“But why is your flyer even _there_?” she asked irritably. “You don’t work with my company.”

She knew exactly what he did for work. He was Joffrey’s _bodyguard_... and he was certainly muscular enough for the job. It made her sick; Joffrey Baratheon, the _celebrity_ , thought Sansa disgustedly. _Big whoop_. He'd done nothing to gain fame other than being born into the Royal Family. 

She knew that his bodyguard had a side hustle… was this it? There was no charge fee on the flyer, though maybe that was just _another detail_ he thought he'd leave out.

Sandor Clegane sighed. “They’re events throughout the district,” he explained.

“Where’s your… Joffrey?” she asked.

“I don’t…” He wrinkled his nose and turned to the side as though something foul was in the air. “I don’t work for them anymore. Not since… well…”

“You don’t work for Joffrey anymore?”

Mr.… _Sandor_ shook his head.

Sansa was as surprised as she was impressed. Joffrey treated everyone terribly, but his family paid well. She nodded at him thoughtfully.

“Well… thanks,” she muttered, turning towards the tall white door. “Sorry for wasting your time... And get a new flyer.” She was almost out the door when Sandor Clegane stopped her.

“Wait,” he said, and when Sansa turned around she saw that he was not a whole foot behind her. He backed up quickly, scratching his head. “You can stay,” said Sandor Clegane. “You want to learn how to swim?”

Sansa nodded.

“I have to… Well, I won’t be able to pay you much attention,” he gestured to the blob of children across the room, “but when they’ve all left… don't really have any other plans today."

“You mean…” she looked over at the turquoise-lined pool. It was huge… and it would be much bigger when… “Just the two of us?”

Sandor glanced unfocusedly to the side. “You’re welcome to join now,” he offered.

_Oh god. Join the class of seven-year-olds? No, no, no._ Sansa’s dignity might’ve been a little _out of place_ , but it was not so far gone that she would take a swimming—

Sansa sighed. She forced her lips into a smile and blinked a few times to really _sell_ it. Being alone with him couldn’t be so bad, and certainly not as bad as being alone with Joffrey. “I’ll wait.”

She had some phone games to play, and she’d even bought a book just in case. Really, she’d brought everything she would’ve brought to the beach, to her ignorance. Settling down in a reclined beach chair, Sansa sprawled out as though the sun were actually beaming down on her, as though she was expecting a tan, and let her mind carry her away.

Louder than the voice of her mind, however, was the rasping voice of Sandor Clegane… the _swimming instructor_. She couldn’t see how he could take on such a job of his own free will. As she'd noticed earlier, the lessons didn’t cost any money that she was aware of, which meant that this was some sort of volunteer work?

What if he’d gotten arrested and this was some sort of community service? Only, Sansa didn’t think that community service came in the form of becoming a swim teacher and especially not a _children’s_ swim teacher.

And based on the way he interacted with the kids, it didn't seem that he wanted to be teaching them much at all.

His students were trying his patience very persistently. The children were swimming around excitedly, circling him with their developing skills and entirely ignoring his rough voice as he bade them to stop, that they weren’t ready to go into the deep end.

And all hell broke loose when a child dared _splashing_ Sandor Clegane—and how it’d amused the other children… and then they were all splashing each other and especially him. Sandor was the only person who hadn’t laughed once. He looked like a clown, she noticed; blue goggles making his eyes bulge out unflatteringly.

Sansa could hardly stop herself laughing from her lounging chair. One side of his face had turned a most pigmented shade of red; he was close to fuming. Really, Sansa thought _she_ might have had a better time teaching the kids, and she didn’t even know how to swim. And anyhow, all of his rasping was interrupting her daydreams.

The one part of it all that made her want to tune in was, well… he’d taken his t-shirt off ages ago… to get into the pool… and… it’d been difficult to avert her eyes ever since. Even when she closed them to think of more _modest_ things, all she could see were his muscles, and when she stopped seeing those, the trail of hair running down his belly was next.

And soon enough it would just be the two of them. Sansa and her ex-boyfriend’s ex- _bodyguard_. The thought ceaselessly filled her with disdain. Sandor Clegane was always… Well, no, actually—he was _never_ polite with her. In fact, he was always rather cold. But at least he spoke up when Joffrey was particularly nasty to her… and therefore, Sansa had considered him somewhat of an ally.

The tips of his hair were wet and somehow looked even darker than the rest of his black mane… and no matter her efforts to think of something else, really Sansa only cared to look at him. She would’ve put on her sunglasses so that she could stare at him without worry of being seen, but she feared looking even more ridiculous than she already did.

And then, out of the corner of her eye, Sansa saw a woman seated in a lounge chair identical to her own. She was older than Sansa, and she was watching the children in the pool. 

No... those can't be parents already, can they? Sansa glanced at the clock. _Ten fifty-seven already?_ She didn't think she could've been daydreaming for so long...

Sansa sat up and pulled her floppy towel a bit closer around her body, and one by one, adults were gathering at the wall or sitting in the lounging chairs, waiting for their children. Most of them looked relaxed and contented, but Sansa thought that might not have been the case had they watched Sandor growl at their kids as she’d seen him do.

When Sandor Clegane saw the parents crowded at the edges of the room, he glanced at the clock and ushered the kids out of the pool. They ran to their parents excitedly while he took his sweet time getting out, casting a glance at Sansa and turning abruptly away when they made eye contact.

He was obviously in no mood to socialize with anyone, and the parents seemed to share mutual feelings on that front: scattered from _Pool 2_ before he could converse with a mere four of them. It was still puzzling to Sansa why, one, he’d elected to work with children and, _two_ , why parents might actually choose _him_ to spend time with their kids. But, somehow, Sandor’s students had seemed to have a good time despite his best efforts. 

When all the high-pitched chatter and giggles had evaporated, the now massive-looking room was silent and still, apart from Sandor Clegane’s pacing of the pool’s edge. They were completely alone now…

Sansa should’ve been watching what he was doing when she had the chance! She knew she was going to make a fool of herself—She was already a slow learner, but if she’d been watching his lessons, she could’ve been practicing them in her mind. And now he was going to think she was a complete idiot.

And he wasn’t even talking to her! He was just walking around the pool, silent and steady. What was she supposed to do? Did he want her to— _goddammit_ , why wouldn’t he just tell her what he wanted her to do? _He_ was the instructor, after all.

Instead, Sandor Clegane (once he thought he had enough _pacing_ , apparently) stepped carelessly onto the diving board and did a front flip into the still pool, creating an obscene splash that darkened the concrete edges.

_Showoff_ , thought Sansa. She loosened the fingers around her beach towel and let it slump beneath her bikini top. She watched as Sandor came up from the water and threw the sleek wet hair back from his burned face... and to her dismay, she felt a shiver run up her spine.

“If you plan to just sit there, I’m going to leave,” came Sandor Clegane’s grumbling voice.

Sansa huffed. _He_ was going to leave? He was a terrible teacher, and an even worse host: rough and mannerless and impatient. She should leave, only she wanted to learn how to swim. She’d already waited nearly an hour.

With her utmost concentration, Sansa pushed her towel away and stood up. She grabbed a pair of clear plastic goggles off of a choppily white-painted table. She should have worn a one-piece, she thought as she walked cautiously towards the steps into the water. Sandor was leaning up against the pool’s wall. Despite his crossed arms, she could still see his abs very clearly. He wasn’t even trying to be subtle about watching her, though he refused to look at her eyes.

“It’s cold,” Sansa muttered with a polite laugh. She didn’t want to look at his eyes either. She fixed them at her feet instead.

“You should be used to it,” he commented. “A Northern girl.”

Sansa sucked in a breath when the water reached her thighs. Was he mocking her? She was used to dressing for the cold, yes, but she still took hot baths and showers. Being a Northerner didn’t mean going skinny-dipping in icy lakes or making snow angels in her birthday suit, it meant she was from the North. She still liked being _warm_. Ah, Southerners. She didn’t think Sandor Clegane wanted to hear it.

“Come on, then,” said her teacher, taking a few steps towards her from the pool. “The water’s not going to get any warmer.”

The nerve of him! He hadn’t even been this rude with the children who'd swarmed and splashed him. Sansa took the last step into the shallow end, holding her posture high to keep the water beneath her waist.

Sandor was just a few feet away at this point, and she honestly wished he would’ve stayed on the other side of the pool. But, alas.

“You know, it’s easier if you jump in,” he pointed out.

Sansa gave him a dirty look. “I can’t _swim_. If I jumped in, I’d _literally_ drown.” She carefully inserted her hands into the water and lowered her arms until she was submerged until the elbow.

“You wouldn’t have drowned—”

“ _Yes_ I would have,” she shot back. Was he listening at all? She wouldn’t have waited all that time for his stupid children’s lesson, put up with his attitude just because she had nothing _better to do_ on a Saturday. “Didn’t you hear me? _I can’t_ _swim_.”

“Well, I can,” said Sandor, running a hand through his hair.

“No kidding,” Sansa replied. What was he on about? Obviously he could freaking swim. Was this some sort of joke?

He sighed and looked at the water between them. “I mean that if you—Never mind.” He waved away his thoughts. “You’ll be warmer once you start moving around, so if you want to duck under now, you’ll probably be more comfortable in a few minutes.”

Sansa nodded reluctantly. She tucked her hair behind her ears habitually and pinched her nose before submerging her head under the water. It was icy cold at first, but when she came back up and wiped her eyes, her body temperature had evened out more comfortably.

When she glanced up briefly at Sandor’s eyes it became apparent that he’d been waiting for her to look at him. _Yup, just as awkward as I thought it would be_. She nodded curtly and his gaze moved freely around the room.

“I reckon you don’t need any floaties,” said Sandor.

She squinted at him venomously. One more sly remark… Just one more…

“Right,” he said, looking away. “Floating is first. If you can’t float, you'll drown.” He beckoned her to come out into the middle. “Put on your goggles, then.”

Sansa pulled the clear, rubber-cushioned goggles over her eyes. The suction was slightly uncomfortable against the soft tissue of her face, and she could only imagine how terrible they looked on her. But if Sandor thought she looked ridiculous, he hid it well. 

“The breaths that you take should be deep enough that you can’t sniff.” Sandor demonstrated his deep breath and then told her to try. “Try to sniff,” he told her, and when she could still inhale through her nose, he made her try again until she couldn’t. “Enough air’ll keep you afloat… as long as you hold it.”

He counted for her while she held her breath under water, just in increments of five seconds, and then she’d come back up. He wanted her to hold his fists as she tried keeping her face under water, only… his hands were wet and slimy-feeling and she didn’t like it, but she listened to him anyway… and held his fists.

The bikini was the wrong choice, Sansa was convinced. The material was flimsy and thin and while it was fine when it was dry, she had only to look down to see that her nipples were poking proudly through the fabric. It was the only time, she noticed, that Sandor kept his eyes _really_ glued to hers.

To demonstrate floating further, he asked her to push him down into the water like a basketball, and watch as he floated back up. He took in a great breath… and Sansa pushed gently on his back.

But that didn’t work. Gravity didn’t allow her gentle shoves to submerge him at all, really, and he got a bit frustrated and told her to go harder. So… Sansa pushed the center of his back firmly into the pool. His skin was wet and supple and it felt… much different than his fists. And he was right, of course, he floated to the surface face down… and she pushed him back in… and he floated up again.

“That was better,” Sandor Clegane remarked. He didn’t ask to try the back-pressing move on her, however… which she thought was just slightly unfortunate…

Some crazed whim made her dare splash him when his back was turned. It wasn't even a hard splash but when he came to face her again, he looked bloodthirsty. 

"Sorry," Sansa mocked. "Your back was looking a little dry." She could _not_ keep herself from smiling.

"Weird," he said, scratching his chin. "I was thinking the same thing about you." Sandor dove under the water and she backed up accordingly as his head got closer and closer to her legs. He looked like a shark now; a clown earlier, and a shark now. 

Instead of letting him reach her feet, Sansa sprung back up the steps and out of the pool. Sandor didn't follow her out when he broke the surface again, and instead settled to float on his back as he'd taught her to do. 

"You can't stay out there forever," he remarked. 

_I can_ , Sansa thought. In fact, she was safer in every single way if she did. She was pacing the pool's edge as he'd been doing, thinking about what her next move would be. She didn't have to consider it long before Sandor Clegane flipped over and grabbed for her ankle. He didn't waste a second before yanking her off balance and pulling her into the pool. 

For a second, Sansa thought she was going to actually drown... but he caught her. He swam up and broke the surface with her in his arms, laughing because it was _so funny,_ apparently.

"How could you do that?" she howled. "I could've... you could've..." Her arm was against his chest... and her hip against his. He was so close... and staring at her, and for a moment she thought he planned to kiss her, only... he didn't. He carried her back into the shallow end and let her go. 

Sandor wanted to show her kicking next, so he had her hold his fists firmly again while she experimented with kicking beneath the water. First she practiced with her head above the water, her face mounted next to their collective hands… and then he asked her to try floating with her head under water—

“Don’t worry,” he said, promising that the trials would only be five-second increments until she wanted to try going for longer… and that she could still hold his hands for support. 

With her head under water though… With the goggles, that is, she could see the bottom half of his swim shorts and she could see his hairy legs and oversized feet…

And then it was back to floating: this time the exercise began with a back-kick off of the pool’s edge and she was supposed to float and kick for seven seconds. Sandor was there to support her head position while she followed through with his instructions… His thumbs were almost gentle beneath her jaw and his other fingers supported her neck.

“You’re not doing it right,” said Sandor Clegane flatly. “Your upper legs have to be on top of the water and your feet below. Like this,” he slid his hands down to her waist and leaned her to the proper angle. Evidently he wasn’t satisfied, for his body glided through the water to her side. He propped one hand at the dip in her back and the other beneath her thigh… and he lifted her slowly to the waterline. “Take a deep breath,” he beckoned, and she did.

When he removed his hands from her, Sansa was pleased to find that she was floating! She was not pleased to find, however, that she was almost… lacking… for where his hands had been. How peculiar, she thought. 

“Good,” Sandor said, righting her to her feet with his hands again. “Now for the back-kicks.”

He held her under the arms, a faint grasp, as she kicked off from the edge of the pool. She didn’t float this time and instead, her legs sank right to the bottom. The only thing that stopped her upper half from sinking as well was Sandor’s support beneath her.

“You didn’t take a deep breath,” he criticized, “and you weren’t even kicking.”

“I _was_ kicking,” said Sansa, pulling her goggles off momentarily to defog them. Had he not noticed?

Sandor laughed. “You’ll need to kick harder than whatever that was if you’re planning on swimming.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Think of Joffrey… or something as equally heinous.”

_Think of Joffrey_ , Sansa thought. Yeah, she wanted to kick him, alright… and apparently Sandor Clegane did, too.

“That’s more like it,” he declared towards her newfound energy.

It might’ve been that she wasn’t paying attention, but she hadn’t seen him make the children do anything near as strenuous as what he’d been making her do. She might not have been a child herself, but she certainly didn't know how to swim any more than they did. He kept drilling her floating and her kicking and by the time he even suggested teaching her different strokes, Sansa was done.

“You’re done?” asked Sandor, looking surprised and a bit disoriented.

Sansa nodded abruptly and glanced up at the clock. It was nearly eleven thirty! They’d already been working for an hour and a half!

“I have to go,” she said. It was true, but she _was_ having fun... and she almost wished that she didn’t have plans at noon.

“Right,” he said, and trailed after her out of the pool.

She wasn’t glad to discover that she really didn’t want to leave… and if her body wasn’t so sore, she would’ve happily stayed for another hour. And when would she see him next anyway? It’s not like she was still dating Joffrey, and even if she was, Sandor wasn’t his plaything anymore either.

“So I suppose I’ll be seeing you here next week,” said Sandor Clegane.

Sansa spun around. “Next week…?” She didn’t have any plans to come here next week, that she knew of.

He gulped, looking a bit alarmed, but refused to break eye contact. “For your lesson,” he explained.

Her _lesson_? “But you teach _children_ …” she said.

His feet were still planted on the top step of the pool. Water was sloshing gently across his ankles. “I taught you today.”

There was something different about his facial expression.

And she had just the slightest suspicion.... Just the slightest, tiniest suspicion... 

“Are you… asking me out?” Sansa asked, fighting off a smile as hard as she could.

If his eyes had gone any wider, they would've popped out of the sockets. “I’m offering to teach you how to swim,” he stated flatly after a painfully long moment. 

“But that’s what we did today,” Sansa said.

Sandor Clegane glanced at the clock. “Little more than an hour and you think you’re a prodigy, eh? You go into the ocean, you’ll be washed away by the tide,” he said.

She frowned. “I thought the whole point of today was for you to teach me how _not_ to drown.”

“You said you had to go. But fret not, little bird, I’ll be here again next Saturday. Just make sure to show up at ten… after the kids leave.” He pulled a towel over shoulder smugly. “I can be here tomorrow, too… if you…” he cleared his throat, “if you want to meet then.”

“You’re a lot less busy than I thought you were.” Sansa gathered up her bag. “Thing is, it sounds sort of like a _date_.”

A swimming lesson wasn’t a conventional date… but it could be. Swimming could definitely be a date. Sansa was very suspicious that he’d enjoyed their time together after all.

“It’s not a _date_ ,” he growled, squinting at her. “I just don’t want you to drown.”

Sansa glared at him. He didn’t want her to drown. Well, wasn’t that just the most romantic thing she’d ever heard?

“And you… you have a lot to learn,” Sandor added. He started listing the different types of swimming strokes, to emphasize that she did _in fact_ have a lot to learn. 

_And he wants to teach me,_ Sansa thought. She reached out and scooped up his hand. It was still a bit waterlogged and pruny and his shocked expression made her want to let go… but she held it firmly. “So do you,” she said. “I’ll be here at ten.”


End file.
